Why are we doing this?

A rite of passage at my elementary school was going through the Big Buddies/Little Buddies program, in which kindergarteners (known as “Little Buddies” on account of their stature) were paired up with third graders (more massive “Big Buddies”) to work on class activities. It was really more of a novelty than a profound mentorship opportunity, as the meetings were few and far between, but it was a lot of fun for all buddies, regardless of size.

When I was in kindergarten, my Big Buddy’s name was Garrett, and that’s all I remember. I have a slightly sharper recollection of Noah, my Little Buddy: Once, at a picnic, he showed me how he would eat ants he picked up off the grass, which I found absolutely repulsive at the time but which I now recognize as very badass.

My strongest memory of the program, though, involved one of Noah’s classmates. We’d sit on the rug as the teacher detailed our tasks for the day, and when she asked for questions, this boy’s hand would shoot up, followed by the same five words every time:

“Why are we doing this?”

At the time, I found it pretty funny that he bothered asking. Eight years old and reveling in my first semblance of seniority, I figured he had a lot to learn before he became a veteran of academia like myself. A few months into the year, when the teacher stopped trying to explain the reasoning behind each assignment and just started saying “Do I like that question?” in response, I felt that justice had been served. It wasn’t until more than a decade later, when I found myself on the other side of the classroom, that I realized the inquisitive lad had a point in demanding justification for each task. In my four semesters as an undergraduate student instructor for economics courses, I’ve hoped that my students see the material as more than a bunch of abstract graphs and equations — that they understand why we’re doing this.

To be sure, the answer to that question can and should differ, but in my opinion, we study economics because it’s all around us: in the trips we take to the grocery store, in the news we watch on television, in the ballots we fill out. We study it because it’s hard, so hard that “simple economics” ought to be considered an oxymoron, and because it’s a set of tools that can be used to make people’s lives better.

Of course, knowledge and learning are beautiful things in and of themselves, and it’s fine to appreciate them for their own sake. But when we’re able to see why we study the things we study, it makes the experience richer, more significant. The reasons themselves need not be deeply consequential: Studying something might help us understand the beauty of the world or feel more connected to those around us. What matters is that we’re illuminated, that our world becomes less dark.

This philosophy, really, extends beyond the classroom — it’s not just textbook learning that can make us feel fulfilled and enlightened. My own time in college would have been much less sunny without The Daily Californian. This paper has been my rock throughout the 10 semesters I’ve spent on its staff, and it has given my life so much more meaning than I ever could have imagined when I submitted my application almost four years ago.

Goodbyes are never easy, and in many ways I’ve been shielded from the sensation of letting go by being physically distant from Berkeley this semester. But the fact remains that this will likely be the last thing I write for the Daily Cal, so a few acknowledgements need to be made.

I could fill an entire issue with the names of the people at this paper who deserve a thank-you. But I want to shout out Joshua, Sanni and Malini, for being some of my earliest friends on the staff (and in college); Sakura, Frankie and Nick, for making my first editorship such a blast; and all the people who will carry the Daily Cal into the future — the paper could not be in better hands.

I want to thank Martha Olney and Erik Maier, for being two of the best teachers I’ve ever had, and for being impeccable role models as I think about myself as an educator.

I want to thank Ketki, Arjun, Olivia, Riley, Adam, Camryn, Aslesha and everyone else I’ve ever had the pleasure of playing trivia with. Over whispered answers and Table Fries, some of the most cherished relationships of college were solidified.

I want to thank Ben, Gabby, Joel, Jenny, Lorenzo, Max and Michael, for always making home feel like home.

I want to thank Revati, for brightening every single day with your humor, your passion, your patience — I could go on forever, but you know how word counts work. You never cease to amaze me, and I’m beyond glad I spent all that time in the opinion cubicle last fall.

I want to thank Sahil, Justin and Vihaan, for managing to put up with living with me for three years. You’re the friends I hoped I would make in college, and I feel so lucky to have shared the experience with you.

I want to thank my mom and dad, for being on the receiving end of many a stressed phone call over the past four years and for believing in me and supporting me throughout my entire life. Danny, you’re the strongest person I know.

And I want to thank UC Berkeley, for pulling us out of the darkness — for reminding us why we’re doing this.